Tradition Would Always Get in the Way

Hundir could feel eyes on the back of his head again. He turned away from his book, hooking an arm around the back of the sitting room's couch. 

"What do you want?" Of course it was Bhelen. 

"Ooh, what're you reading?" He asked, standing on his toes and leaning over the couch, very obviously trying to peek at the cover. 

Hundir pulled it close to his chest. Despite being the elder brother of the two, Bhelen never had a shred of respect in his body for Hundir. "None of your stone-damned business."  Trian was the only one who got an ounce of his due elder-sibling privileges. Perhaps it was because Hundir and Bhelen were only a year apart. Perhaps it was because Hundir was an easy target and Bhelen was an annoying ass. 

"Let me guess," he smirked, "another stupid romance novel?" 

Hundir huffed and shoved him back as he stood. Bhelen never listened, but in the rare case that he actually fucked off when he was told, it was always because Hundir had to physically push him away. "Sod off, Bhelen." 

Bhelen rolled his eyes, taking advantage of a split-second breath Hundir took to yank his book out of his hands. "Really? A surface novel?" Hundir didn't bother to pull punches as his idiot brother soldiered on and started reading off a random page. "His hands are strong and calloused, but tender as he pulls me in by my waist, so close I can feel his heart beating from his chest into mine. I can see my shocked expression in his bright blue eyes-"

"Shut up, Bhelen!" Hundir yanked the book back as Bhelen winced due to a particularly hard punch to the side. I hadn't gotten to that part yet!

"Really, Hundir? A romance novel?" He snorted out laughter despite still slightly wheezing. "Trying to find your dream girl in a novel?" 

"You're an ass." 

"Let me guess," Bhelen laughed, following Hundir despite his attempts to leave. "She's got ginger hair, blue eyes, uses a sword and shield, has a beard and a- Hey!" He nearly fell forward as Hundir hit him on the back hard with the hardcover novel. "Sensitive poncy sod."

Hundir didn't dignify him with a further reaction. Well, he supposed the little prat got some satisfaction in annoying his brother so much he had to leave before he threw a punch that would get their father involved. That happened far too often for Endrin's liking. It usually happened after Bhelen took an obvious, painful stab at Hundir's alleged affections. It felt like Hundir spent every waking moment fighting to keep his brother from not only telling all of Orzammar about Hundir's apparent love for his male servant, but from telling Gorim himself. Hundir was always an impulse away from asking his father for a diplomatic banishment to Kal-Sharok, as the newly rediscovered, reclusive, likely tainted kingdom to the north would be favorable to the hell of living in what counts for broad daylight in Orzammar. 

"Good morning, my Prince!" Hundir jolted at the sudden voice. He looked up from the nook he had found himself in, staring slightly wide-eyed at his upbeat servant. Well, servant was hardly an accurate term. Gorim Saelac was his only friend, his greatest strength, his greatest weakness, and a million other things he'd be mortified if anyone knew of. 

"Ah, good morning... Gorim," he said, smiling a little sheepishly. Gorim was the only person he smiled at. 

Gorim sat down on the stone floor next to him, his casual armor making quite a bit of noise. "Let me guess," he started, chuckling softly. "Bhelen?"